Time and Tide
by Juleeroze
Summary: The (first, I hope) sequel to "Touch and Go", finds Carolyn Muir recovering from her accident, her parents and the world in general believing Captain Daniel Gregg to be a living, breathing human, Claymore actually cooperating with the ghost of Gull Cottage and Daniel and some of his spectral friends trying to solve the mystery of the hit and run driver who had injured Carolyn.
1. Chapter 1

**Time and Tide**

by Julie Feldman

All GAMM characters belong to R.A. Dick and Twentieth Century Fox. I make no money from this story.

_This is the (hopefully first) sequel to __Touch and Go__ and starts in the middle of November 1975._

**Chapter One:**

Carolyn Muir had gotten home from the hospital the day before, after being the victim of a hit and run accident on Gregg Road. She had actually died but had been convinced by the ghost of Gull Cottage, Captain Daniel Gregg, that she could not leave her young children, whose father had passed away more than ten years previously. The accident scene was gruesomely bloody, and despite being a spirit, Captain Gregg had ingested a bit of Carolyn's blood. That had produced the startling effect of allowing him the ability to be solid, although some of the finer points of that new trick needed work. However, in the past week, he had been able to introduce himself to Carolyn's parents, doctors and the greater part of the (albeit small) population of the village of Schooner Bay as the current Daniel Gregg, another descendant of the Captain, and cousin to Claymore Gregg. That situation was damn complicated, as Claymore had already noted. Fortunately for all of them Candy and Jonathan, Carolyn's children, had written up the "history" of the "cousins" as something to do until their mother returned home. It was a life-saver for them all. Claymore had allowed the ghost to "rent" the small cottage a quarter-mile up the road that had once been lived in by Cleveland Hampton, the principal of the Schooner Bay Grammar School. This gave Carolyn's parents the impression that the younger Daniel didn't "live" with their daughter. They had to fudge a bit on an auto for him. While he could logically claim that he used a bicycle around the village and surrounding areas, Carolyn had been hospitalized in Rockland, forty-five minutes from home by car.

After much "persuading", Claymore agreed to go to Keystone and rent a car there. Daniel had watched Caroline and others guide a car and going forward was, well…straight-forward. Going straight backward wasn't difficult either. Parallel parking was, at least for the moment, not a necessity, so Claymore and the Captain took off in tandem back to Schooner Bay.

The first thing that happened when Daniel put his car into "Drive" (Claymore had thought it best to rent an automatic), and stepped on the gas, was that the car shot forward into the road. He took his foot off the gas, stepped on the brake and nearly went through the windshield.

"Hmmm. It's not as easy as it looks," he thought. Carolyn had started to teach Candy to drive, and Daniel thought about some of the things that she had said in the first lesson; "Pretend there's a raw egg under your foot instead of an accelerator pedal. You can't push down hard, or you'll break the egg. Same thing when you want to stop." He tried again and found that he did much better at controlling the car. In fact, Daniel began to enjoy the experience of driving, propelling a vehicle faster than he ever had during his lifetime. Leaning into curves, swooping into straightaways gave him quite a rush. He had left Claymore and his ancient Mercury far behind. Before he knew it, he was doing 80 miles an hour. "I'd best slow down. It wouldn't do to drive off the road or even get a ticket. But, by the Powers, this is fun!"

Now, he was able to drive up to Gull Cottage so that Carolyn's parents, Emily and Bradford Williams thought everything was normal. They would stay through the weekend and then return to Philadelphia, but they would return in two weeks for Carolyn's birthday. Tomorrow they would have a birthday party for Candy and Martha and Emily were in town buying the food. Now that Carolyn was home, the children had returned to school, so when Daniel knocked on the door to Gull Cottage, Brad opened it for him.

"Good morning, Daniel. Don't you have to go to work?" He had been told that the two cousins shared ownership of the Gregg Realty Company.

"Fortunately, I can make my own hours, Brad. How's Carolyn this morning?"

"I'm coming along." Carolyn stood in the kitchen doorway, a large mug of Martha's coffee in her left hand, her right arm in a cast and sling. "I think, however, I'm ready to get back upstairs and into bed. Daniel, can you help me up the stairs?"

"Of course, my dear. And there are some pieces of news that we need to catch up on."

Carolyn was aware that Daniel could now assume a solid form, but when she had asked him the night before, he had put her off. She was tired after the long drive home and he knew that she wouldn't be able to process what had happened. Now, after he helped her upstairs and got her comfortable in bed, he sat down facing her, holding her good hand.

"What do you remember about the accident, Carolyn?"

"Not very much. I know that I was walking along the road…then I was dead, but you were with me, and you sent me back."

"You sent yourself back, my dear. I only told you why you had to," he said, looking sadly at her. It was still a very painful memory for him. "What else do you remember?"

"Nothing else until I opened my eyes in the hospital and saw you. I thought, with you touching me, that I must still be dead. That either we were haunting Gull Cottage together, or we had passed on together. But obviously, that's not what happened. Tell me, Daniel, how can you be solid now?"

"It's not a very long story, just somewhat complicated." He rubbed the small hand in between his two large ones, emphasizing this new ability. "You bled quite a lot. I was there with you, in the road and the blood was all over my clothes, my hands. I don't know why, but I had the strongest urge to taste it. It was your life force, from your blood, that has caused me to develop this new ability."

"But you're still not alive?"

"No, my dear. Merely a facsimile thereof," he smiled, somewhat ruefully. "I can still manage who I want to see and hear me and move instantaneously from place to place in my ectoplasmic form. Only now, I can touch humans without having to be invisible to them. It does take a bit of energy to do so, but it becomes easier with each passing day, and I can maintain my solid form for longer and longer periods. The Masters who assist the Spectral Fraternity assure me that I will eventually be able to perform any manner of physical activities."

Carolyn lifted an eyebrow. "Any manner?"

Daniel smiled. "Yes, any manner. And since I now have introduced myself to the current world as a descendant of myself, we can go about in public like two normal people."

"Oh, Daniel! That will be wonderful. No more hiding, dissembling, making excuses, 'borrowing' poor Claymore…" her voice began to fade a bit.

"You need to nap, my dear. And with your father in the house, I cannot stay to watch over you, at least not in this form. But I can wish you sweet dreams." With that, Daniel bent down and gave Carolyn a light kiss on the lips. Before he could pull away, her arms went around his neck and pulled him back to her for another, deeper kiss.

As Daniel entered the kitchen, Brad put down his paper and his coffee cup.

"She's asleep. I'll look in on her later and see if the children need any help with their homework."

"It sounds like a plan. I can't deal with this 'new math' stuff myself," answered Brad, extending his hand to the Captain.

"New math, indeed!" thought Daniel to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Time and Tide**

**Chapter Two:**

After leaving Gull Cottage, Daniel went to Ed Peavey's storefront. Ed was Schooner Bay's painter/carpenter/electrician/plumber and also the town's Constable.

A small town like Schooner Bay had very little crime to speak of and that was why Peavey, with the occasional assistance of Norrie Coolidge, was able to carry out the role part-time. Still, Schooner Bay was growing, if not by leaps and bounds, then by drips and drabs. And in the summer, the population could increase by a third with visitors. In the last few years, Ed had found that he could only take on emergency house projects in the summer so that he could spend more time attending to his duties as Constable. And along with the increased need for policing, the county and the state had increased their technical and financial support as well.

Ed had come to be introduced to Captain Gregg after he and Martha had been dating for about a year, or a few months after Martha herself had finally met Daniel. At first, Ed had been terrified to set foot in Gull Cottage after learning that there really was a ghost in residence. He had grown up with the stories of the haunted house and had been the victim of the Captain himself, the day Carolyn Muir and her family had moved in. But, with a little coaxing, he calmed down and even began to think of the Captain as a friend. It was a friendship that Daniel came to appreciate as well. His so-called "nephew", Claymore was generally a source of irritation to him, the Reverend Farley was a quiet and meek man, not the sort to sit around and have a glass of beer with, Deke was interesting, but he talked so slowly that it was difficult not to become impatient and he had no interest in that young "peep", Dr. Ferguson.

It was no surprise to Ed, then, that Daniel stopped in that November morning.

"Mornin', Captain. How is Mrs. Muir doing?"

"Better, Ed. And now that she is settled in the house again, I wanted to see you about something."  
"Problem with the house? I promised to be up at the Coburn's painting today."

"No, no problem with Gull Cottage. I am here to speak to you as the town constable."

"Oh….?" Ed put down the painter's supplies he was gathering. "Out of town kids still trying to see the 'haunted house'?"

"No, nothing like that. And anyway, I've generally been able to circumvent curiosity. A well-placed boom of thunder usually does the trick." Daniel and Ed smiled at each other knowingly. "No, I'm here to ask you about the investigation of Carolyn's accident. Were you able to find out anything about the driver of the car that drove into her?"

Peavey sighed. "Under the best of circumstances, which we certainly don't have here, it's difficult to find a hit-and-run driver. No witnesses, Mrs. Muir says she doesn't remember a thing about it and no large, identifiable car parts."

"Identifiable car parts?" asked Captain Gregg.

"Yeh. Some parts are stamped with the VIN: the Vehicle Identification Number, which is specific to each car. And because of styling and the composition of the metal or plastic of the parts, at least the manufacturer and model can be determined. I walked back and forth on that road, maybe a dozen times in the last week. I couldn't find anything larger than a screw. I did pick up some paint chips, though. Mostly black. Haven't heard yet from the state police lab, but I'll let you know what they find."

Daniel was perplexed. "What information could they come up with from a chip of paint?"

"Well," began Ed, "every type of paint obviously has a different formulation, so we'd know if it was paint from a car, versus paint from a house."

"What would a house be doing moving down the road?"

"I'm just giving you an example, Captain. No need to work yourself up! Now, within each class of paint, the different colors have different chemicals in them, naturally."

"Naturally," Daniel agreed.

"So those formulas are like a signature. We can tell which car company used that color paint. And in some cases, only some colors were used on certain models. You can find out a lot of information about the car from a paint chip. _If_ we're lucky. I'm hoping to hear from the lab in a couple of days. I let you know just as soon as I know."

Daniel's next stop was Claymore's office. Claymore wasn't anymore happy to see his 'uncle' or his 'cousin' or whatever else he was this week, but at least they had been able to work together without any major disasters.

"Good morning, Claymore!"

"My, you're in a good mood. Mrs. Muir must be doing better."

"Yes. She came down to breakfast this morning."

"Well, I'm happy about that, but, as you can see, I'm busy here. Would you mind 'popping out', or if you're driving, please go somewhere else, but _slowly_?"

"Ah, Claymore! You've come right to the point I wanted to discuss with you. May I?" Daniel indicated the guest chair. Without waiting for the other man to respond, the Captain sat down. "I'm driving a rented car but have no driver's license. I have no identification papers, no way to prove I am your cousin. That could get very sticky. We must think of a way of getting those documents. And since you're the Town Clerk, the Justice of the Peace and a Notary Public, you could be very helpful in 'obtaining' them, yes?"

"NO!" Claymore abruptly came to his feet and leaning across his desk, glared at Daniel. "First of all, you're not alive. Being alive is a _prima facia_ requirement for identification documents. Second, what you are not so subtly asking me to do is 'create' and notarize those documents. That's fraud and even if I liked you, I wouldn't do it."

The ghost was suitably impressed with Claymore's response. Claymore sat down, looking tired and grumpy.

"What you absolutely, positively will not face, Captain, is that you need me. You need me here and not in jail so that Gull Cottage and all the other property isn't foreclosed on. You need me here to be your anchor in the community as my cousin and partner. You need me to do things like rent the car for you and give you cash and pretend that you are living in the small house near the promontory. And you know what? I've done all that and haven't asked for the teensiest thing in return. Do you know why, Captain?"

Daniel was astounded. Indeed, the man had done all that, and more in the last week and a half.

"I did it because I know you and Carolyn Muir love each other. I'm not blind. And I'm not an idiot either, no matter what you say. I know that if I help you and Mrs. Muir to find some kind of life-or whatever it is- together, you'll be a lot happier. And if you're happier, you'll leave me alone. And, and, well I just have to say, Mrs. Muir is a wonderful person and she deserves all the happiness she can have, and…OK, I admit it! I'm a sap for a good love story! Now can you go, please. I'll think about the documents. I don't know…maybe there is some way…"

"Thank you, Claymore. You are right. More than right. You have my apologies." And before anymore could be said, Daniel left Claymore's office.

The Captain's next stop was the spot in Gregg Road where Carolyn's accident had occurred. He had known this road since before it really was a road, when it was just a worn path around the bay. By the time he built Gull Cottage, it had become a road of sorts, but not much more than a dusty dirt track. It wasn't until automobiles became common in the area that it was paved, and that necessitated the stone wall. There was a curve just south of the accident site, but because there were only a few sparse trees on the land-side of the road, visibility wasn't generally an issue. There may have been a few accidents over the years in the general vicinity, but he didn't recall any one in particular, and certainly he didn't recall any one having been injured there before.

Of course, the cars and trucks that went back and forth lost a screw or rivet now and again, especially some of the older conveyances that many locals had. And once the little cottage near the promontory had been built in the 1930's, there were garbage trucks, the milk man, the postman, etc., which added to the vehicles passing back and forth. Debris on the side of the road was to be expected. In addition, Daniel realized, the wind off the water was usually southerly, which would likely blow paint chips and other light detritus down the road toward town.

Getting out of his car, he began to walk along the verge of the road, looking down intently. In the dirt there were cigarette butts, bits of paper, dead leaves and gravel. Looking more closely, he could see a sprinkling of tiny bits of black, probably smaller samples of what Ed had picked up. He continued to walk to the curve. Here there was a bit more debris piled up against the wall where it turned slightly west for about 100 feet. Daniel knelt by the wall and started to sort out the pieces of vegetation and dirt from the small pile. There was more of the same as well as some bits of rubber, long dried out and some rusty nails and screws. He was about to stand when something caught his eye. At first he had thought that it was part of the leaf that was lying above it, but he realized that the color was too red. It was a bit of paint, about an inch and a half long and a half inch wide tapering to a rough point. The red was a shiny, rich color, but when he turned it over, the other side was a dull black. Turning back to the red side, he noticed one end of the paint chip seemed to be slightly thicker and was a dull orange-brown that he recognized as metal primer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Time and Tide**

**Chapter Three:**

Daniel came back to Gull Cottage after Candy and Jonathan got home from school. Carolyn was dozing in front of the fire in the Master Cabin, Martha was preparing dinner and Brad and Emily were tidying up.

After a quick peak at Carolyn's sleeping form, he went down to the kitchen where the children were doing their homework. Candy was working on some algebra problems and seemed to have that well in hand. Jonathan, on the other hand, was having a heavy go of it with a chapter in his history textbook about the first year of the Civil War.

"Blast! After the start of the war at Fort Sumter, I can't keep the battles straight!"

"Now, belay that, m'boy. We'll go over this together. Gather your books and come with me to the alcove so that we don't disturb Candy."

Fortunately, the boy's grandparents were upstairs. "Captain, were you still in the Navy during the Civil War?" he asked.

"No, I had just left service a few years before. If I hadn't had my own ship, I would have definitely re-enlisted…on the Union side, of course."

"But, besides the battle of the ironclads, there wasn't much naval action, was there?"

"On the contrary, Jonathan. The Navies of both sides provided a great deal of support, and there were several important naval engagements. In fact, although it wasn't an important confrontation in the scheme of things, the second engagement of the war, the Battle of Sewell's Point involved the Union gunboats USS Monticello and USS Thomas Freeborn. Captain Henry Eagle was in command of the Monticello and his second in command was Daniel Braine. I had served with both men and they were good, true fellows. Now, do you remember the date of that battle?"

"Well, I remember that it was a little more than a month after the Battle of Fort Sumter, and that was a few days after your birthday on April 8th. So…the Battle of Sewell's Point was May," he thought for a few moments, "May, May…I got it! May 18th and 19th, 1861!"

About an hour later, Daniel went up to check on Carolyn again. She slowly opened her eyes when he quietly came through the door to the bedroom. Her sleepy smile made his heart warm and he sat down on the arm of her chair and took her good hand in his.

"Dinner will be ready shortly, dear Carolyn. How are you feeling?"

She squeezed his hand, glad to have the one she loved close to her. "I'm starting to feel more like myself every hour."

"Are you hungry?"

The scent of a good hearty stew had curled its way into the room when Daniel had opened the door and she was indeed hungry. "I could still eat that horse! This time, I mean it."

They both laughed remembering years ago when she had tried to convince him that she was feeling fine despite coming down with what the Captain had pronounced to be "the Ague". Now she didn't have to have a "Willow Bark Golden Elixir"-induced dream to feel him holding her hand. It was just as well; there had been more than a little brandy in that concoction. It had not only "put a keel under it", but the foc'sle above it as well!

"My dear, I know I've asked you already, but perhaps now that you're feeling stronger, you may have more memories of the accident. Can you recall anything about the car that hit you?"

Carolyn shook her head. "No, nothing at all. Ed had questioned me all about the accident while I was still in the hospital. He didn't think it was likely that they'd ever find the car or the driver. I hope you're not going to pursue this."

Daniel stood up and began to pace. "Of course I am going to 'pursue' this. It was a hit and run accident. Not only did he seriously injure you, but he left you in the roadway, continued on his way and is a danger to others." His words became more and more vehement "I cannot let this coward go without facing the consequences!"

Carolyn stood up and faced the Captain squarely. "This is why I don't want you to get involved, Daniel. You're too emotionally invested in this, and if that were not enough, it's not in your character to hold yourself back when you perceive a wrong that needs to be righted. I admit, you have some very good reasons that the investigation should continue, but it's not your job."

"It is my job to protect those that are dear to me. Ed Peavey is a good man, but he doesn't have the time or the resources to do any more than he's already done."

"And you do?

"Yes. And in fact, I have already found another piece of evidence." Daniel showed her the paint chip that he had collected that morning. "There's more than one color here, as if the car had been repainted. That could be significant. Ed will be stopping by to spend some time with Martha tonight and I will give this to him."

"And are you going to do anything else to try and track down the car and its driver?"

"I suppose that depends on what information the State Forensics Lab is able to give us about the car that these paint chips came from." Daniel gave Carolyn his most ingratiating smile. "Until then, I will have to occupy my time by being at your beck and call, my dear."

The next morning, after the children had left for school, Emily picked up the telephone and asked Millie at the telephone exchange to connect her to the Bay Beauty Basket. After the third ring, a woman's voice answered.

"Bay Beauty Basket, Daisy speaking. How can we beautify your day?"

"You wouldn't happen to have an opening today for a wash and set? It's for my daughter, Carolyn Muir."

"Oh, how _is_ Mrs. Muir?

"She's feeling much better, thank you. But with the cast on her arm, its very difficult for her to wash her hair. You know how it is, when you've spent time in bed. You feel like you're covered in lint and starch from the sheets."

"Oh, yes! You can't feel fresh if your hair isn't shampooed and styled. Don't worry, I can make time for her. How would 10:30 be? Or would 11 be better?"

"Ten-thirty would be just marvelous! We'll see you then, Daisy. And thank you for fitting her in."

"Mother, what are you doing?" Carolyn was coming down the stairs as Emily hung up the phone.

"Oh, Carolyn, dear. You said last night how much you would like to wash your hair. I just thought it would be a lot easier and safer to go to the salon and have it done professionally. You'll feel a thousand percent better, and I'm sure Daniel will appreciate how pretty you look. And we have plenty of time after to prepare for Candy's birthday party!"

Brad came out of the kitchen, having heard what Emily had said. "Go ahead, Carolyn. You deserve a little pampering, you know."

Mrs. Muir thought about her mother's proposal. She was anxious to get her hair washed and she would have needed Emily or Martha to help her with it if they did it upstairs. She would have to kneel over the tub and that would be very uncomfortable with her healing ribs. Plus, it was her experience that no matter how much you tried to keep the bathroom from becoming awash with soapy water, it always ended up like a wading pool. The last thing she wanted to do was give Martha more work and make the whole thing a slippery mess for them all. "Alright. I'm convinced. But I don't want you paying for this, Mother! Dad, do you want to come along with us?"

"To the Bay Beauty Basket? Heaven forbid!

After dinner, Martha put out a wonderful coconut pineapple cake with rum vanilla icing for Candy's birthday. Besides her mother, brother, grandparents, Captain Gregg and Martha, Claymore and Ed were in attendance. After the cake was served, Candy opened her presents; a gold nameplate necklace that spelled "Candace", which Candy felt was a much more mature name and requested that everyone begin to call her that; her mother gave her a cassette recorder and Jonathan contributed two cassettes (Bruce Springsteen's "Born to Run" and Queen's "Night at the Opera"); Martha gave her a beginner's macramé kit; Ed had made a reading stand for her desk; Claymore handed her a $25 savings bond and Captain Gregg gave her a blank diary book, a steel pen and a bottle of Pelikan blue-black ink.

Candy stood in the middle of the living room and thank everyone for their gifts. "All these things are soooo wonderful and just what I wanted, but the best gift is that Mom is out of the hospital and here with us." That brought cheers from everyone in the room and tears to Carolyn's eyes.

"Well," said Brad, standing up and stretching, "Emily, we need to turn in. We've got an early flight back home."

"Yes, dear." She turned to Carolyn and the children and smiled, "But before you know it, we'll be back for Thanksgiving. It's less than three weeks away, and your birthday, Carolyn, is two days later."

"Grandma, tell us again how Mom thought when she was little, that the turkey and all the fixings were just an early celebration of her birthday!"

"Jonathan, you know the story so well, why don't you tell it?" Emily responded while she fondly gave her grandson a hug and a kiss. "And it's time that you get upstairs too, young man."

"Aw, OK, Grandma."

After the Williams' and Jonathan went upstairs, Candy realized that she was left with the adults. It was a little weird, especially since they didn't seem to pay any notice one way or another to her presence. Martha and Ed had turned on the TV and were watching "Columbo" while her mother was chatting with Claymore. Since Captain Gregg was unoccupied, she turned to him to ask him a question.

"Captain, I love the diary, but why the steel pen and ink? I don't know how to use them."

"Well, my dear, it's high time you learned. Ball point pens are very helpful, but they aren't at all good in developing beautiful script. Starting tomorrow, I can give you lessons in how to use the pen and in how to produce various scripts; Copperplate, Spencer, italic to name a few. It's an art form, a reminder of a gentler, more elegant time." Candy was thrilled. She had the least day-to-day contact of all the family with the man that she privately called her father. Spending time with him, just the two of them, learning penmanship would be as much a birthday present as the other things he had given her.

After "Columbo" solved his latest case, everyone decided it was time to go home and go to bed. As he was leaving, Ed handed an envelope to Captain Gregg. "It's a copy of the Forensic Lab's report on the first paint samples. You're not supposed to have it, so either put it away safely or burn it." Daniel thanked him for it and locked the door behind him. Carolyn was still sitting in the living room, so he sat down next to her on the couch and opened the envelop and read the brief report.

**Sample #75-127: Black Paint Samples, collected on October 30,**

**1975 on Gregg Road, Schooner Bay, ME, by Edward Peavy, Schooner Bay **

**Village Constable in relation to a motor vehicle accident with injuries **

**to a pedestrian which occurred northeast of the village proper, on**

**Gregg Road on October 28, 1975 between mile marker 2.2 and **

**mile marker 2.3 (Local Record Number MVA 75-02).**

** Samples received and entered into Forensic Database on **

**November 1, 1975 by Lieutenant Truman Jamison, State Police **

**Forensics Department (Badge #610501).**

** The sample contains three pieces of paint. The first piece **

**(Sample #75-127a) is 1cm x 2cm. The second piece (Sample #75-127b) **

**is 1cm x 2.5 cm. The third piece (Sample # 75-127c) is 0.5cm x 1cm. **

**All three pieces are dull black on all sides and edges.**

** After comparison with the "Standard Automotive Paint **

**Manual" it was determined that these paint samples are:**

**Automotive body paint.**

**After-market paint, not associated with any American**

**or Foreign manufacturer.**

**The best match of the paint samples is to a black used by the Earl Scheib Company known as "Matte Black" automotive paint.**

**The closest Earl Scheib Automotive Painting franchises to the State**

**of Maine are in New York State.**

"Blast! That's about as useful as saying that sailcloth is made from fiber and is a shade of white!"

"Never mind, Daniel. I didn't think it would be possible to trace the car. We can put it aside now."

"No, Carolyn. If I'm not mistaken, the original color of the car was red. Now that I gave Ed that piece, I believe the Forensics Lab will be able to give us a better idea of where it came from."

"And then what? Millions of cars have been produced over the years. You may be able to narrow it down to one manufacturer and even to one model, but you're still talking about thousands of cars."

"Oh, I don't know. And even if we are talking about thousands of vehicles, I have some resources that will help."


	4. Chapter 4

**Time and Tide**

**Chapter Four:**

The next morning, Daniel was at Claymore's office bright and early so that they could drive to Keystone and return the rental car. He was going to miss it and the feeling of almost being a bird in flight, speeding down the country roads, but when Carolyn's parents returned in a few weeks, he'd have the need to rent another. After Claymore completed the rental return, including paying for it, the Captain could have "popped" back to Gull Cottage. Regretfully for Claymore, he asked to drive back to Schooner Bay with him.

"I need to discuss our financial arrangements with you, Claymore."

Claymore sighed.

"I am in a position now to propose marriage to Mrs. Muir, but I will not do so until I can support her and the children and can afford to employ Martha."

This time Claymore sighed _and_ shook his head. "I knew this was coming. Here's the unvarnished truth; I can't afford to have you as a partner in my realty company. I can't even afford to hire you. There's not a lot of sales or rentals in the cold weather, and I can handle the summer season fine on my own. That's not to mention the fact that you don't have a realtor's license and can't get one without identification. Face it, Captain. You need to find work on your own and it needs to be something that won't require any legal formalities."

"I rather realized that," replied the Captain. "I'm afraid that there is no demand for schooner captains and all my training has been in the nautical arts. Perhaps in the summer visitors to the village would pay to have me take them out fishing in a sailboat, but I don't own one and the summer is many months away." He turned to look at his so-called nephew/cousin. "Claymore, I am asking for your advice."

The old car swerved momentarily while Claymore recovered from the shock. "You, you want…you want _my_ advice? Why, Uncle Daniel…I can't believe it! You really are asking me, _me_ to give _you_ guidance?"

The Captain's brow was beginning to look like corrugated metal as he glared intently at the other man. The sky began to darken. "Yes, you ninny! Who else could I ask? Mrs. Muir?! She would just tell me that she has enough income from her writing to support _me_, and I WILL NOT BE A KEPT MAN, DO YOU HEAR ME?" Daniel realized he was yelling and there were a few fat rain drops on the windshield. Taking what looked for all the world like a breath, he gained control of himself. "It would be humiliating in the extreme not to be able to care for my family, and I would drive both myself and Carolyn into a mental hospital with nothing to do all day. I've spent the last 110 years protecting Gull Cottage and maintaining accurate charts of the nearby coast. Those activities, however, will not provide any income."

"You know," began Claymore cautiously, "I'm not so sure you are correct. I've seen some of your charts. They are very nice. In fact, they are quite handsome. You have an elegant, old-fashioned script, and if you did some on old-looking paper, I'm sure that they would sell to both the summer tourists and the amateur sail….seamen."

"They _are_ things of beauty! I'm pleased that you appreciate them, dear boy. Perhaps there is hope for you yet, despite having the spine of an invertebrate."

"Uh, invertebrates don't have spines. That's why they're invertebrates, Uncle."

"My point, exactly! However, getting back to the topic at hand, I can't imagine that producing a few charts would constitute an adequate income."

"Original, hand-drawn charts could bring in quite a lot of money. Maybe $50 or $75 a piece. If they are popular, you can have them lithographed and sell larger quantities at lower prices without having to do many by hand. And now that you can, you know, move farther away from Schooner Bay, you have more charts that you could compile."

"It bears thinking about, Claymore."

"And Mrs. Muir told me about the time you rewrote the story for that magazine. What was it called?"  
"The magazine or the story?"

"Ah, both. I've forgotten both names, Captain."

"The story was 'Maiden Voyage'. The magazine was _Feminine View_. I can hardly write for a woman's magazine, Claymore!"

"No, no of course not, but is shows that you are a good writer, and you helped write your memoirs as well, so you know the process. I'm sure that if you wrote some sea tales, Mrs. Muir's publisher would at least look at them."

"Indeed. They might at that. Thank you, Claymore. I'll leave you be, now," and Daniel disappeared from the car and popped into Gull Cottage.

Carolyn's parents had left just after Jonathan and Candy headed down the road to the school bus stop and Martha was busy with the house. Carolyn was in the Master Cabin and he could hear her slowly typing.

"Madam, what do you think you're doing?" he demanded when he materialized in front of her. She was indeed hunting and pecking at the keys, but fortunately, she had bought herself an electric typewriter a few years ago, which made this awkward exercise easier.

"I think I'm working on a story, Captain. It certainly feels like it to me!" She tossed her head, but then when she felt a momentary bit of dizziness, she reminded herself that she still had some way to go to be feeling like herself again.

"Carolyn, why?" Daniel was more soft-spoken now and he sat on the edge of her desk. He took her left hand in his two large, masculine hands. "You need to be recovering, not working."

"I wanted to get back into the harness, even if I only worked on something for a few minutes. I thought I'd try to write about my accident. In the last day or two I seem to be remembering a bit here and a bit there."

The Captain looked at her with compassion. "What do you remember, my dear?" he asked softly.

Carolyn closed her eyes for a moment. She wasn't sure if she wanted to tell him what she recalled in case it had been all a dream. Still, she needed to share the memory. "I was dead, wasn't I? You were there, holding me, and we could have crossed over and been together for the rest of eternity. But we both knew I had to come back for Candy and Jonathan."

Daniel held her hand to his cheek, willing himself to shed no tears. It was enough that her eyes were ready to spill over at the memory of joy of being together mixed with equal parts of pain at separating. Softly he said, "Yes, Carolyn. It happened as you remember it."

One tear began to run down her cheek. She squeezed his hands with every last ounce of strength she possessed. "Leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done, and my children were the only reason that possibly could have taken me from your side."

He leaned over her and nuzzled her hair, still holding her hand in his. "I know that, my darling," he whispered, "and I would have it no other way." Releasing her hand from his grasp, he held her face and leaned down to kiss her. At first it was a gentle kiss, but despite not wanting to tax her strength, Daniel could not resist the sweetness of her lips. He stood and pulled her up into his embrace, kissing her more and more deeply. Carolyn's lips trembled at his touch and he began to feel the embers of excitement begin to glow deep inside of him. "How extraordinary!" he thought. He hadn't been physically aroused in more than a century and had never thought that he could be again. However, this was not the time to act on this renewed pleasure. Not only was Carolyn recovering from her accident and still had her right arm in a heavy plaster cast, he was not yet sure how long he could maintain the physical form of an entire body while engaged in such a demanding ability. "Best to trim the sails for a while," he thought to himself.

He broke their kiss and brought her to the sofa where he held her in his arms. Carolyn settled into him and tucked her feet under her. She felt like a contented cat sleeping by the fireside and took a deep, happy breath. She didn't know how this had come to be, but here she was, alive with her children and with her Captain able to touch and hold her. "Miracle" was an over-used word, but what else was this?

"Carolyn, there is something else I need to discuss with you." She looked up at the seaman, waiting for him to continue. "If I am to live as if I were a live human again, and a part of this family, I need to be able to contribute to it financially." She started to say something, but Daniel held a hand up to silence her. "I know what you are going to say. You are indeed able to support us all, but I must contribute as well. In my day and age, any man who lived off a woman was nothing more than a pimp, a disgrace! I know that I have little chance of earning as much as you do in this age, but if I do not do all that I can to assist you, I will not be able to face myself. I also need to be seen by your parents and in-laws as someone who is 'normal' and does 'normal' things, like working. Lastly, there are some items I wish to purchase, such as an auto of my own."

"I understand, Daniel. You have some very valid points. The question is, what is it that you can do? I assume that Claymore cannot afford to share his business with you…"

"And I, Madam, would be hard pressed to work with him on any regular basis. I admit that he has really gone out of his way to be helpful, but after all these years of dealing with him, it is difficult for me not to start calling him names when I see his face." Carolyn laughed, recalling some of the Captain's more outrageous epithets. "But speaking of Claymore, he did have some suggestions about earning an income."

"What did he suggest, dear? asked Carolyn.

"First he suggested that I continue to write, both with you and on my own. I must admit, I had thought about it, but one writer in the house is likely enough. Then he had a really inventive, intriguing idea; to sell my naval charts. I admit that I was -and still am- skeptical about making a living this way, but I can see that some would see the charts as artwork and others would view them as useful tools. Do you think there's any hope for a scheme like this?"

"Daniel! What a marvelous suggestion! Yes, I do think there would be a market for them. You would need a small investment in materials, printing and advertising, but I don't think you would need an enormous amount of money to get started. I'm willing to lend you the start-up capital with an interest-free loan, with at least half payable by, let's say the end of next year's tourist season. If you can do that, I think you have a business."

"And if I can't?  
"Oh, that's simple," Carolyn said with a saucy smile, "You'll be Martha' assistant housekeeper and cook."


	5. Chapter 5

**Time and Tide**

**Chapter Five:**

About a week later, Ed Peavy handed the Captain another envelope. He whispered to Daniel, "There's some significant stuff in there. You did a good job finding that piece of paint. I don't know that you'll get anywhere with it, but maybe you might. If you need anything from me, just let me know."

Late that evening, when everyone was asleep, Daniel lit a candle on his desk in the alcove and read the report from the State Forensics Lab.

**Sample #75-131: Paint Sample, collected on November 2, 1975 on Gregg Road, Schooner Bay, ME, by Daniel Gregg, Schooner Bay resident, currently residing at 16 Gregg Road in the village of Schooner Bay. The sample was collected in relation to a motor vehicle accident with injuries to a pedestrian which occurred northeast of the village proper, on Gregg Road on October 28, 1975 between mile marker 2.2 and mile marker 2.3 (Local Record Number MVA 75-02). It should be noted that the accident scene is approximately three-quarters of a mile south of Mr. Gregg's residence.**

**Samples received and entered into the Forensics Database on November 4, 1975 by Lieutenant Truman Jamison, State Police Forensics Department (Badge #610501).**

** The sample contains one piece of paint, approximately 3cm x5 cm. This **

**item has been labeled Sample #75-131a. This sample is dull black on one side and on the other is bright red with some red-brown primer on one of the short edges.**

** After comparison with the "Standard Automotive Paint **

**Manual" it was determined that these paint samples are:**

**Automotive body paint.**

**The black paint is an after-market paint, not associated with any specific American or Foreign manufacturer. The best match of the paint sample is to a black used by the Earl Scheib Company, known as "Matte Black," automotive paint.**

**It appears to be the same paint found on three samples, numbered 75-127a, 75-127b and 75-127c which are associated with this same local record number, MVA 75-02.**

**The red paint best matches with Chevrolet "Roman Red" paint, Chevrolet item #70961.**

**The primer matches primer used on General Motors American-made products.**

**The Chevrolet company used "Roman Red from the 1959 model-year through the 1962 model-year. It was used on the following models:**

**Impala**

**Corvette**

**Corvair**

**Chevy II**

**Nova**

**The Chevrolet Impala was "the best-selling- full-sized car in the U.S." according to company advertising and other reports. During the years that Roman Red was used, 2,154,925 Impala's were sold, in a variety of configurations.**

Daniel sat back and stroked his beard. Over two million cars! How many of them could have been red? And how many of them remained on the road? And lastly, how many of them were in the neighborhood of Schooner Bay at the end of October? Clearly, this was a task that would require help.

The captain had heard about some in his Ghostly Fraternity that required the assistance of other specters to order to right the wrongs that kept them attached to the physical world. He would have to obtain the assistance of a few others in order to have any hope of finding the person who left Carolyn Muir to die.

He left Gull Cottage after midnight and let it be known to all the spirits that he needed assistance. He particularly asked for help from those that were mechanical and had worked on automobiles during their lifetimes.

The first ghost that responded was an old acquaintance of his. Her name was Velma LaSalle, and he had assisted her in the first few weeks of her afterlife. She had been a young mid-western girl who had arrived in Hollywood in 1923 with the hopes of breaking into silent pictures. After several auditions, she was selected by the head one of the medium-sized movie studios to join his roster of actors. While Velma had a few bit parts in forgettable films, she spent most of her time as the big man's mistress. He put her up in a fancy house, bought her a sophisticated and expensive wardrobe and jewelry, provided a chauffeured car for her and took her to New York when he went east to discuss business. For two years he promised that he would find a property that would make her a star, but then a younger newcomer caught his eye. Before Velma could even say "stop the presses", she was sent packing with nothing but the clothes he had bought her. She found that the other studios wouldn't hire her for fear of angering her former paramour. She could have made her way back home, but after her time in Hollywood, she was afraid that life in her little hometown would bore her to death. Instead, she began a discreet little business as a very high-end "escort". It was not unusual to hear many interesting items of gossip in the bedroom, and she thought that she could spread a little gossip herself, that would reflect poorly on her former lover. Unfortunately, Hollywood was a company town. What one man had done to her, others had down to many other women, and there was no benefit for them in chastising one of their number. In fact, if anyone was a problem in their eyes, it was Velma. If she wasn't going to go quietly, they would take care of silencing her. So it was one night when she was working as an escort for an up-and-coming producer. They had been to the Brown Derby, and now the producer was leading her from the door of his Duesenberg Roadster to his apartment when two men approached, yelling for them to give them their cash and jewels. Without waiting for Velma and the producer to comply, they shot her several times, including one shot to the head. After she dropped to the pavement, the producer pulled out a wad of cash and handed it to the men. He had been working for the big man.

Velma usually appeared as she had been at the time of her death; late twenties, dressed in the haute couture of 1930, including a fox wrap over her tailored dark suite and an elegant hat, the effect finished with deep red lipstick.

"Hello, Daniel." Her voice had a sultry, smoky a_ffected_ quality, intended to imply sexiness. It never moved the captain himself, but others in the fraternity thought she was marvelous.

"Hello Velma. Are you offering to help?"

"Of course. You were very good to me when I first arrived, and I am duty-bound to do what I can for you."

"Thank you, Velma. Let's wait a bit and see who else volunteers, and then I'll tell everyone what needs to be done."

Next a tall, blonde youth sauntered up. He obviously spent a lot of time at the beach because he was wearing surfer's shorts and a Hawaiian shirt over it, with worn leather sandals. Under his arm he carried a surfboard. He looked to be about eighteen.

"Hi," he said eagerly and extending a hand to the Captain. "They call me Boomer. The word is you're looking for some help. I used to spend a lot of time with my dad working on all sorts of mechanical stuff."

"Indeed?" Daniel responded. "Allow me to present Miss Velma La Salle. Velma, this is Boomer."

Velma giggled. "You look like my kid brother. 'Boomer' isn't your real name, is it?"

"No," the young man gave Velma a good look, "my given name's 'Peter' but I'm told I was a very loud baby and the name stuck."

This wasn't the time or place for a flirtatious meeting between the two ghosts, so Daniel interrupted. "Tell us Boomer, how did you come to be a spirit?"

"Oh, well, I was kinda double-crossed by one of my friends. See, we were supposed to meet to study for our chemistry final. We were high school seniors. But instead of studying, we grabbed our boards and headed to the beach. I got out to the surf first and had just gotten on the board when I was hit by a rogue wave." Daniel nodded seriously. He had encountered a rogue wave when he was a young Navy lieutenant. It had nearly swamped their gunboat.

"My friend high-tailed it out of there and went home, pretending that he had never left his room. No one knew that I had drowned that night until my parents realized that I hadn't come home from 'studying'. 'Course this so-called friend had said that I had never come to his house. This was 1957, and to this day, no one knows the real story. I've tried to leave hints and directions, and I've tried to scare it out of this guy, but I was never very good at any of it, and now, he's married and has a bunch of kids of his own."

"Velma put her "hand "on his "arm". "Oh, kid, dontcha worry. You're a really young spirit yet. As time goes on, you'll get better at it. Any help you need, you just ask any of us. We're all here for ya!" She snapped the gum she was "chewing".

Next, a striking red-headed woman arrived with the swishing of skirts. She was one of the "old ones", ghosts who had either been in a spectral form for so long that it was no longer possible to correct the wrong or the unfinished work that had resulted in their status or who chose to simply not pass on after there had been a resolution to their spectral state. In this sense, Daniel was not only a "super spirit" but one of the "old ones" also.

This woman was Anne Boleyn, second wife of Henry VIII and she was also a "super spirit". At the moment, she was attired in her usual costume; gown and headdress of rich materials typical of a royal court of the late 16th century, her famous pearl necklace with the gold "B" hung from her neck. Like Daniel, she could change her appearance at will and could also make herself solid. He had met her a handful of times and found her to be an extraordinarily beautiful creature. She was headstrong and somewhat haughty, however. Anne had been known to throw extreme tantrums in her early years in the fraternity and could still change her mind about something in the wink of an eye. It was no surprise that he generally avoided her. She could be damn flirtatious one moment and then figuratively cut you to ribbons the next. He enjoyed the flirtatious banter with her but had never wanted to pursue the matter further. He had suspected that a closer relationship with her could be dangerous, and then of course, Carolyn had come into his world. Anne rather liked him though. Imperious one moment, soft and romantic the next, quite like Henry himself had been. Too bad she had been unable to obtain his sustained attention in social matters.

"Your Majesty, welcome. It is good to see you again. May I present my friend and my new acquaintance?"

"Thank you, Daniel. I have met Miss LaSalle previously, but who is this handsome young man?" She gave Boomer serious consideration.

"This, milady is Boomer. He has recently joined our society."

"Indeed? Well, welcome, dear Boomer. We will all endeavor to make you comfortable. Now, Daniel, what is this assistance I hear you need? I do not know if I can help you directly with knowledge about a conveyance that does not require animal power, but if you need assistance in obtaining answers to questions, I am quite able in that arena."

"Indeed, Ma'am, you are inestimable in obtaining information that a man might not necessarily wish to divulge." Anne blushed slightly but Velma was not happy with Daniel's obsequious attention to the queen. She cleared her throat and glared at the Captain when he turned in her direction. "I did not mean to imply that you are not also excellent at obtaining information, but Her Majesty has had more opportunities to polish her talents." He bowed to both ladies.

The next specter to appear was an old acquaintance of Daniel's. He was dressed in the rough clothing of the early 19th century; heavy brown broadcloth pants, what at one time was a white, now gray, collarless cotton shirt and a red cloth tied around his neck. His gray hair was thin, but his brown eyes danced, and his cheeks were ruddy in his generously proportioned face.

"Oliver! I didn't know you were one of us! Why haven't you shown yourself to me before this?"

The other ghost just shrugged his shoulders. "We are a large fraternity, my friend. I've been spending my time meeting others I had not met when I was alive. As they say, 'a stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet!'" He laughed jovially.

"My friends…and Your Majesty, I'd like to present an old, old friend of mine, Mr. Oliver Button. He owned the best tap room on the East Coast and always stocked the best rum and madeira, just for me."

"And I charged you a pretty penny for it, Daniel!"

"Aye, you did, you scoundrel! Now tell me how you landed here?"

"Oh, it was a stupid accident. One of the girls made lye water to clean up something or other and took an old brown whiskey bottle to put it in. She never took off the label or marked it as lye. I saw the bottle lying about and put it back under the bar. After I cleaned up that night, I thought I'd have a glass. I must have been damned tired, because I didn't notice that it was a clear liquid and threw it down my throat. It was an agonizing death I tell you Daniel as the lye ate my innards. They found me the next morning and decided I had killed myself. And here I am!"

Daniel nodded his head sadly. "Yes. I too was labeled a suicide because I kicked the blasted gas heater with my blasted foot in the dark and suffocated."

The last volunteer was an old black man, wearing grease-stained overalls, heavy boots and carrying an oil-stained rag in his hand. His voice was raspy, and he seemed to be missing a serious number of teeth.

"Someone need an auto mechanic?"

"Yes. I am Captain Daniel Gregg, and you are…?"

"James Campbell, at your service. Where's the car?  
"Aye, there's the rub," muttered the Captain. "I'll explain in a moment. First, James, would you please tell us how you became a ghost?"

The mechanic didn't look pleased at being asked to tell his history, but he knew that you didn't stand before one super spirit, much less two and not do as you were told. Truth was, this man was being polite to him and didn't deserve to be the focus of his anger.

"Well, you see, I had scrimped and saved all my life to open my own little garage. It wasn't much. Just had one lift and two gas pumps out front, but it was mine and my wife and children had a home, clothes and good food. We were even able to tithe some to the church. We lived about an hour out of Atlanta. It was a small town, all of us folk were blacks, you know. Didn't bother anyone and generally no one bothered us. Well, one day in 1934, it was, these three white college boys come rolling up to my garage with a beat up 1928 Model A Ford. They said that it was running rough all of a sudden and needed me to look at it. I'd heard them come up the street and it did sound pretty bad. So I put it on the lift, got the safety light and walked under it to take a look. That's when one of them let go on the lift and the car came crashing down on me. I died instantly, and they got back into that Model A after they connected the wire to the spark plug that they had pulled off before they drove in, rolled over my body and set off laughing and hooting. They were never found. In fact, the police never even pretended to look. My poor wife had to go to work as a domestic and laundry woman to keep the children in one piece."

Boomer, having been born and raised in southern California, had no real knowledge of the Jim Crow days and was amazed that something like this could have happened in the United States. He just stared at James, his mouth hanging open. Finally, Oliver turned to him. "My dear young man, you should open a book sometime!"

Daniel now explained the task at hand and concluded by saying, "I am approaching this as anyone at sea would approach a search and rescue operation; we will work in concentric circles with Schooner Bay at the center and approach the owner of any automotive repair shop or auto body shop and ask if they've seen a Chevrolet product with this type of paint and likely damage any time since the last week of October." A map materialized in his hand. "I've located all the likely businesses in this radius." He pointed to marks on the map and then snapped his fingers. In his other hand appeared six pieces of paper. "I want you each to take one page; I will take the last. These are the places you are to make inquiries. If any of you finds any information about the vehicle, inform me immediately, otherwise we will meet here again in 48 hours."


	6. Chapter 6

**Time and Tide**

**Chapter Six:**

It was mid-morning when Anne Boleyn appeared at Goodman's Automotive Repair. She was now dressed in a warm brown wool Balenciaga suit with an elegant black Coach bag hanging from her shoulder and black leather Ferragamo pumps on her delicate feet. Anne knew that contemporary fashion experts felt that Balenciaga was passé, but she appreciated the timeless elegance the design house represented.

There was no one in the office, so she went around to the service area. Several men were working and there was banging, clanging and the sigh of compressed air coming from the work bays.

"Hello? Excuse me? " She waited a few moments for a reaction, but none was forthcoming. "Can someone help me?" Nothing. At the top of her lungs, Anne called out, "HEY THERE!" and finally got a reaction.

The oldest man in the group approached her. "Good morning, miss. Something I can do for you?"

"Yes." She almost called him "my good fellow" but remembered that it wouldn't be appropriate in this time period, at least not from a woman. "I was wondering if you had seen a Chevrolet in the last few weeks. It would have had a black after-market paint job with some body damage. There was red paint underneath the black. It side-swiped my car and then sped off." This last was the story that they all agreed they would tell as the explanation for looking for the Chevy.

"No, can't say as I have," replied the auto mechanic. "It's a shame nowadays how people behave. No common courtesy."

"Yes, so true," replied Anne. "Well, thank you for your time. I must be going. I have several shops to check out today."

Night was falling when Velma walked around the retaining wall and into a pool of light by Bay Auto Body. She had left the fox drape and hat behind and did her hair up in a French beehive. It made her look a bit like an auburn-haired Inger Stevens. A low whistle came from under one of the cars outside of the garage doors. "Look at that! You don't see that every day!"

Velma came around to the side of the car. "Hey, you jerk, get out from under there right now and look me in the eye and say that!"

A man slid out from under the car. He had a puzzled look on his face until he realized that Velma thought he was talking about her. He began to chuckle a little. "I'm sorry, miss. I wasn't talking about you. I didn't even realize you were here. I was taking a look at this car here. Fellow bought it from a kid that tried to restore it. He brought it to me to get the body aligned, and well the kid must have taken a hammer to it to try and straighten it. Now," he got to his feet. "how can I help you?"

Velma explained her mission to the man, but he just shook his head. "Sorry, no. Haven't seen anything like that."

Oliver had been checking out shops in a rundown area of Bucksport, north of Schooner Bay. The last place he stopped at was Frank's Full-Service Garage and Auto Body. For a full-service shop it was awfully small and there was one ancient gas pump outside. No one was in the garage proper, but an older man who was chewing on an unlit cigar was in the office, going over the day's receipts in the greenish light of the overhead florescent fixture. Oliver, now dressed in a modern shirt and pants, stuck his head in the door. "You Frank?"

"Yep," came the laconic reply. Frank looked like he was on the far side of sixty, somewhat porky and definitely greasy.

"I'm hoping you're the one who can give me some information. The word on the street is that your prices are really good and that you get a lot of business from people who need to keep their 'beloved old vehicles' running for what you'd call 'economic reasons'."

"And if I do, what's it to you? Are you from an insurance company or something?"

"Oh, no, no, no Frank. You misunderstand me!" Oliver put his hands up. "I am looking for something, but not anything to do with fraud. _Everyone_ I've talked to assured me that you run an honest business, but I wouldn't care either way. Life is tough, and for me, it recently got tougher when my car was nearly destroyed by a hit-and-run driver while it was parked at one of my favorite watering holes up in Bangor. I'm a traveling salesman. My car is my life. I got no witnesses to the accident because we were all inside knocking back a few, you know?"

"So, you want me to fix it up?"

"No. Not yet at least. It's still up in Bangor and I'd have to have it towed here. Well, I'd have to have it towed anywhere. Problem is, my collision insurance doesn't want to pay anything toward the repair unless I can prove to them somehow that I'm not at fault."

Frank threw out the remains of his cigar and spat out some bits of tobacco. "Yep. That's a tough nut to crack. Still don't see as I can be of much help, though."

Oliver leaned in, hoping he had gained enough of Frank's sympathy as possible. "Well, I got one possible _tiny_ piece of information. You see, the next morning, when my head cleared up some, I took a good look at the ground near the side of the car that was smashed. Of course I found plenty of white paint from my car, but I also find an interesting piece of paint from another car. On one side, it was a dull black color. On the other side, it was a beautiful, shiny red, with a bit of primer at one end. I checked in some automotive paint books. I think the black was a paint job on top of the original color. My best guess is the red is Chevrolet Roman Red. It was used for a few years starting in '57. Maybe you saw a car with that kind of paint on it?"

Frank stroked his greasy chin. "Yeah, year. It makes sense now."

"You've seen it?" Oliver couldn't believe his impending luck.

"Yep. About three, four weeks ago. Pretty badly beat up '62 Chevy Impala. Definitely re-painted black, some red showing through here and there. Middle aged guy brought it in because the right front bumper mount had sheared off and it was dragging on the ground. He didn't have time to stay and have me fix it. He just wanted me to attach it to the frame well enough to make it back home. He was taller than you, scrawny, black hair, but nothing else that I could say about him."

"Did he happen to say where home was?"

"No, he didn't, and I didn't ask, but the car had New York plates."

Oliver started to laugh and bounce on his toes. "Frank, my friend! I think I love you!"

This was gratifying news and made the search significantly easier. Of course, as James pointed out when the group of ghostly investigators met again later that night, the car could still be anywhere between Maine and New York, or even somewhere else completely.

"Yeah, but if he got the bumper only held on by wire, he wouldn't be going too far," reasoned Boomer. How many miles is it from Maine to New York?"

"Boy, have you ever heard of an atlas?" asked Oliver.

Daniel held up his hand to silence his old friend. "It is approximately 500 miles." Everyone started talking at once, giving their opinions about whether the car's driver would attempt to make it back to New York, or stop somewhere else to get the bumper reliably fixed.

"Well, it seems to me," began James, "if he wanted to deal with that bumper, no matter where he was, it would take time and money. If he needed a replacement bumper, he'd have to wait until either one was found in a junk yard or have it delivered from the nearest Chevrolet parts distributor. If he wanted it welded, he'd have to find someplace that could do that kind of welding and wait for the job to be done. Either way, it wouldn't be cheap."

"Still, trying to drive 500 miles, even on good freeways, he'd have to stop, and have it wired up again," said Boomer. "My friends and I had jalopies that were held together with bailing wire and chewing gum, but we were able to work on them any time in our driveways, and we usually didn't do more than drive around town." Velma looked at his skeptically. "Ok, we did do some drag racing now and then…"

"Not necessarily, Boomer. Frank had some steel cables and chains in his office," Oliver offered. "If he'd used that, it might not be so hard to make it to New York."

"In any event," interrupted Captain Gregg, "we will still have to make inquiries in Maine, New Hampshire, Rhode Island, Massachusetts, Connecticut as well as New York to be sure that we find this car. We will concentrate on areas surrounding the interstate system that runs southwest." There was some sighing and groaning. "Take heart my friends, we have limited the potential number of cars from millions to 704,900. We will reconvene in one human day and I will have new assignments for you. I have some things that need to be taken care of with my human family. Until tomorrow."

It was 9 am on Monday, November 24th. Emily and Brad Williams would be returning to Schooner Bay that afternoon to celebrate Thanksgiving Day on Thursday and Carolyn's birthday on Saturday, the 29th. Daniel needed Claymore to rent a car for him again and then he would be able to pick the Williams' up at the airport.

"How's the charts business going? Mrs. Muir told me that she had given you a start-up loan," said Claymore as they drove down to Keystone.

"Well, I am still learning about the lithography process, but I have laid in a stock of materials and I have produced a nice sized chart that Norrie bought for his restaurant. He agreed to allow me to put a little notice on frame when its hung to advertise my business. This might just work. I certainly enjoy doing it and Carolyn and the children are very supportive. Now, if only I can find a way to obtain legal identification."

Claymore looked over at Daniel with a questioning look on his face. "You know, I've thought about that, Captain. Isn't it possible that one of your ghostly friends can produce those documents for you?"

Daniel stroked his beard while he slowly turned his head to Claymore. "That is a stroke of genius! I've finally had a positive influence on you! And I know just the specter to do it!"

"Ah, anyone I've ever heard of, like Al Capone?" asked Claymore.

"You're back to being a dunderheaded booby! Al Capone was a gangster and racketeer, and you, you're as sharp as a dull harpoon. The ghost I need to approach is Adolfo Kaminsky and he is –was- a bone fide hero. He forged Nazi documents during World War II that allowed thousands of people to escape Germany."

Later that day, Daniel met Brad and Emily in the terminal at the airport. After stowing their luggage in the trunk of the rental car, Emily had a question for him.

"Isn't this a different car than the one you had a few weeks ago?"

"Yes," he answered. "I'm going to buy a new car, but I haven't decided which one yet. I'm in the process of making my choice by renting different cars for a week or two at a time. Unfortunately, I haven't settled on one yet. I feel too much like a 'kid in a candy store'."

Brad laughed. "I know what you mean!" Emily just rolled her eyes.

Daniel helped Carolyn's parents get settled in the car, but before he started the engine, he turned around to look at both of them.

"There are a couple of important things I want to talk to both of you about in private," he began. Emily smiled, assuming that Daniel was planning to propose to Carolyn and wished to ask them for her hand first. "First off, the real estate business has slowed significantly in the last few months. Claymore and I have agreed that he should run the business by himself, at least for the foreseeable future." Brad, who had been thinking along the same lines as Emily, was not happy to hear this. "However," continued Daniel, "I have started a new business, and while it is early still, I think that it will grow and provide a satisfactory income. For many years, as a hobby, I have drawn nautical charts. It was Claymore who suggested that not only would they be valuable for seamen and weekend sailors, but that they were artistic and would make unique framed pictures. I have already sold a rather good-sized one to Norrie's Lobster House."

"And how long do you think you will need to get the business established?" asked Brad.

"I would hope that by the end of the next summer I should be able to show a modest profit."

"I see." Brad and Emily exchanged glances.

"And this brings me to the other thing that I wanted to discuss with you," continued Daniel. "I intend to propose to Carolyn. Since we are not youngsters and Carolyn has been married before, I hope you understand that it is rather…inappropriate to ask you to _give_ her to me. She is her own woman and would defend her right to choose her life's path to her last breath."

"Well, you're certainly right about that," smiled Brad.

"She's always known her own mind," added Emily.

"Yes, indeed, " Daniel acknowledged. "Therefore, I am asking for your _blessings_. I intend to propose shortly, but I do not want the marriage to take place until my business shows it's worth."

"So," Emily interjected, "we should think of a wedding around this time next year?"

"It is my dearest hope," replied Daniel.


	7. Chapter 7

**Time and Tide**

**Chapter Seven:**

The next few days passed swiftly for all concerned. Carolyn's parents took her down to Rockland General Hospital for a general check-up on the injuries she had sustained in the accident the month before, and to change the cast on her right arm. Dr. Pierce was satisfied with her progress and felt that the cast could come off permanently in three weeks. Martha was finishing up her pre-Thanksgiving cleaning, shopping and cooking, Candy and Jonathan had mid-term tests and papers to complete and Claymore did what he usually did between Thanksgiving and New Year's; he fretted about the seasonal downturn in business.

Captain Gregg showed up at Gull Cottage at least once a day, and always for Martha's wonderful dinners, but the rest of the time he was with his "troops", continuing their investigations. Anne, Velma and Oliver were continuing their investigations along the interstates that led through New England south and west toward New York State. Daniel, James and Boomer started by investigating auto body shops and painters up and down the New York border with Connecticut and Massachusetts. They decided to start with Earl Scheib franchises, because that was the paint mentioned in the Forensics Labs' reports and because it had become well-known via its television commercials featuring Earl himself promising low-cost jobs "with no ups, no add-ons". The company was booming and had several outlets in the state.

Boomer started in Buffalo. Coming from sunny, warm southern California, Buffalo in late November was an unpleasant surprise. Fortunately he had been forewarned and with help from Anne and Daniel he learned to produce clothing; a pair of warm jeans, a turtle-neck sweater much like the Captain's, a typical 1970's padded "snorkel" jacket, a long muffler, a watch cap, ski gloves and water-proof boots. Even with all that on, he felt chilled in the cold wind off of Lake Erie though it was just barely below freezing. In fact, he noticed that the locals weren't nearly as warmly dressed as he was. They just briskly went about their business, so he decided that he should move along as well.

He was a block away from the franchise's location and despite a few snow flurries that fell, by the time he reached the door, he had warmed up a little. Opening the door to the shop, Boomer was assaulted by the paint fumes. Behind the desk was an undistinguished middle-aged man. The name stitched onto his shirt announced that his name was "Wally."

"What can I do for you son? Got a hot rod that needs some painting up? We don't do no decals or anything like that, but we can do a nice base for you. A hot orange? Icy blue? Fire engine red? We got it all."

Boomer was a little flustered by Wally's salesmanship, but pulled himself together admirably under the assault. "Ah, no sir. Nothing like that. I'm trying to get information on a specific car. It was involved recently in an accident, but it was repainted before that with Earl Scheib paint and it had New York plates on it. I was wondering if you might have records on it. It was a '62 Chevy Impala and originally it was painted 'Roman Red', but sometime between when it was bought and the end of last month it had been repainted a flat black."

Wally squinted his eyes at Boomer, then shook his head. "You telling me that you want me to go through more than a dozen years of records on your say so? Hell, I don't even keep that info more than three years! Now unless you got a car for me to paint, get your butt outa here." Boomer assumed that his work in Buffalo was done and was more than happy to leave the premises. In fact he was in such a rush to leave Wally's vicinity, he almost "popped" out right in front of the man, but at the last second remembered that it wasn't a good idea. He backed toward the door and when he was aware he was standing before it, he turned tail and ran around the corner where he wouldn't be seen dematerializing.

Captain Gregg had assigned himself the Earl Scheib franchise in Freeport, on the south shore of Long Island. During his sailing days he had put in at the town more than once but maneuvering a large schooner through the small islands and salt marshes between the town and the Atlantic took a good deal of seamanship. Which he had, of course.

Like Schooner Bay, Freeport had its origins in the 17th century, although native American tribes had spent time there fishing and oystering before any Europeans arrived. By the time of the Revolution the little town was attracting cargo-bearing ships because there was no tax or fees for off-loading merchandise, hence the eventual name of "Freeport". After the turn of the 19th century, it had grown exponentially because of its proximity to New York City. When the South Side Railroad (predecessor of the Long Island Railroad) came through in 1867, the town boomed.

Now in the early afternoon light the Captain approached the auto paint shop. Late November near to the ocean could be blustery, but nowhere near as cold as Buffalo, and the first snows didn't usually show up until the beginning of January. Because Freeport had a myriad of marshes and small islands between it and the Atlantic ocean, flooding was a rare occurrence. Still, the sandy soil caused the sidewalks and roads to heave, buckle and develop good-sized potholes with regularity. He gingerly stepped over a patch of sidewalk that rose and fell like a ship in a storm-tossed sea before reaching the door.

He too was assaulted with paint fumes, but he had expected it. All things considered it was no worse a smell than the pitch used to seal wooden boats. No one was at the desk to greet him, so after a moment, he slapped his large hand down on a buzzer and shortly a man came out of the back office. The name embroidered on his shirt said "Louie". The Captain explained his mission and received much the same response as Boomer. However, Daniel Gregg was not put off as easily as the boy. He put both palms flat on the desk and leaned over Louie.

"Someone dear to me came very near to dying because of that car." There was no need to explain that Carolyn _had_ been dead but had come back to life. "I'm going to see that it's found and it's driver held responsible. You are going to help me." The Captain's voice was menacing, and Louie's eyes opened so wide that his black pupils seemed overwhelmed by the whites. His mouth hung open and his face turned white. "Now all I'm asking you to do is let me see the paperwork that you have available. You wouldn't happen to have it arranged by, say, manufacturer or paint color would you?"

"Ah, actu, actually Mister, it is arranged by paint color by month and year, but like I told you, the records only go back five years."

"I will look at anything you have, if you will just give me some space, and then I'll leave. Of course, if you don't cooperate…."

"No, no. Here, have a seat in my office. I'll bring the boxes of paper to you."

It took Daniel more than two hours to go through the papers. While they were neatly filed and labeled, it seemed that a lot of people liked to repaint their cars black. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your viewpoint, there were no 1962 Roman Red Chevrolet Impala's that had been painted black in that shop. "Blast," he thought to himself. "All that work for nothing." He looked at the electric clock hanging on the wall, it's brown power cord hanging down like a tail. It was already mid-afternoon on the day before Thanksgiving. All the shops would be closing up early, and that meant that he couldn't start on his investigations at the Brooklyn franchise. Tomorrow, everyone would be home eating turkey and watching football games. It would have to wait until Friday. "Blast," he said to himself again.

In the Bronx, James approached the franchise on Bruckner Boulevard, a large avenue that crossed the southern end of the borough from east to west. Urban renewal had brought a busy highway to the area, built right over the street, and in between its east and west roadways where highway came down to ground level. When the boulevard had reached its greatest fame, in the first four decades of the twentieth century, it passed by industrial zones, middle class neighborhoods, early high- rises, factories, schools, hospitals and parks. But by 1975, the western third of Bruckner Boulevard was the stereotypical "South Bronx" with abandoned and burnt-out buildings, drug dens, pan handlers and mom-'n-pop stores trying to hang on. Graffiti covered everything. Motorists along the street were afraid that if they lingered too long at a red light, their car would become a mobile canvas, or someone would attempt to car-jack them at gun point. As the boulevard headed west and then northwest, the neighborhoods slowly improved until it finally ended in a lower-middle class Italian area.

As James materialized nearby, he saw long blocks on the northeast side of Bruckner Boulevard lined with various business related to auto repair and restoration. Every store was either a garage, an auto body shop or a flat-tire-fix store. If it wasn't, it was closed, burned out or abandoned. On the other side of the large street there were multiple railroad tracks leading to the Hunts Point Markets where food and food-stuffs were distributed to points far and wide. A few blocks behind him, small apartment houses rose as well as small buildings that had a store of some sort at street-level and a floor or two with apartments above it. Even though he had supernatural hearing, with the incessant roar of the traffic on the expressway, he couldn't hear anything else around him.

He was dressed in worn jeans and a heavy shirt under an old corduroy jacket. On his feet were his work boots, which were a little too large for him and gave him a shuffling gate. With his tired eyes and partially toothless mouth, James looked older and weaker than he had been at the time of his death. He hoped that by appearing non-threatening, he would have an easier time getting the information he was looking for.

A tall, strong-looking man was at the reception counter. He looked to be in his thirties with dirty-blond hair, large ears and a chipped front tooth. His shirt stated that his name was "Ike". Peeking out from his rolled-up sleeves was a tattoo on each arm. Ike didn't seem to be having a good day as James entered. He looked up with a sneer that revealed his tooth, and then as he looked down at a document merely said, "Whaddya want?"

James was instantly on guard. Politely, he explained what he needed, only to be greeted by a series of expletives, including the "N-word" from Ike. James sighed. He was too old-looking to try something physical; that would have required explanations that he did not care to give. The other choice was to play "Stepin' Fetchit", a thought he recoiled from. Quickly considering his next move, he created a badge in a holder which materialized in his inner jacket pocket. He probably should have started off pretending to be a police detective investigating a case, but he hated lying.

Before he could reach into his jacket however, another employee came in from the work area. He was an African American like James and looked to be in his late forties or early fifties. His name was Randall. Wiping his hands on a rag that he stuck into his pants pocket, he walked over to Ike. "Pardon, Mr. Cousins, your father-in-law is in the back, waiting on you."

Gathering up a greasy paper bag, Ike ran out to the painting area without a word to Randall.

Randall smiled at James. "Time for the cash pick up. Mr. Miller owns the business and Ike runs it for him, or he does as long as he and his wife don't divorce. Now what can I do for you?"

Once again, James explained what he was looking for. "A '62 Impala, originally Roman Red, painted black with our paint and New York tags. Hmm. Got a couple that come to mind, but there's one that's here for a touch up at least once a year. Usually got a bunch of dings and bangs on it, often the chrome is scraped or even missing altogether, and I swear on my grandmother's grave that the front and rear quarter-panels are basically wire frame covered over with body filler. The guy's a drunk. Even when he's not hung over, you can smell the alcohol coming out of his pores. Give me a minute, I'll get his info. He needs to be taken off the street. Just don't tell anyone I gave you this material."

"No, of course not! You're a good man, Randall, and I don't want to see you get in trouble, especially with Christmas right down the road."

Randall laughed mirthlessly. "Man, ain't nothing down this road but more garbage. Starting with Ike and that whole family. Here you go. Have yourself a Happy Thanksgiving."


	8. Chapter 8

**Time and Tide**

**Chapter Eight:**

Carolyn and Emily had insisted on making dinner to give Martha a break. Already, all of the Thanksgiving pies had been made and dough was rising in the oven's warming drawer for fresh baked bread to be made the next day. The turkey would be started after the bread was finished and there were still a few other things to prepare.

Normally, when Mrs. Muir made food on her own, Martha was apprehensive. The woman was just could not cook! However, when her mother insisted, and explained that they would be making a light dinner of salads to make sandwiches with and heating up some canned soup, the housekeeper relented and went to her room to take a nap. While Emily chopped, opened cans and took down serving bowls, Carolyn stirred the soup and mixed the salads. The children were delighted at the opportunity to make their own sandwiches (especially Jonathan who indulged his whimsy with a potato and egg salad creation that he labeled "totally cool") and the adults felt satisfied, knowing that the next day they'd be filled to the top with the traditional Thanksgiving feast.

After eating and cleaning the up the kitchen, there was a little to-and-fro over what to watch on the television. Her children often disagreed about what they each wanted to see, but now with her parents in the house, there were three, and sometimes, four opinions on what to tune into.

While the other were thus engaged in deciding on the evening's entertainment, Daniel and Carolyn went back into the kitchen.

"Shall I make you a cup of hot chocolate, m'dear?" asked the Captain.

"Only if you're making one for yourself. You've been busy with something during the days lately? I haven't seen much of you except at night."

Standing by the stove, heating some milk, the ghost turned to look at her, a soft smile on his face. "I've missed you, too. I could spend all day and all night in your presence, enjoying your green eyes, your wit, your beauty…"

Carolyn laughed. "Now you're laying it on too thick, dear Captain."

Daniel ladled the cocoa powder into two mugs and carefully poured out the warm milk before bringing the drinks to the table. "My dear," he said softly, "I do not need to embellish the truth where you are concerned." He leaned over her and stole a soft kiss. "You are perfection." Another kiss. "And I cannot help but be totally mesmerized by your presence."

"Mmm," she replied, enjoying his kisses. This was a new delight that she doubted she would ever take for granted. Too many years had been spent yearning for the least little touch, and now by this miracle, it was as if Daniel Gregg was alive again. For the last few nights, he had laid down with her and held her in his arms until she was deeply asleep. The "warmth" of him next to her on the bed, the feel of his strong arms and chest as she leaned into him, was so real and so pleasant that she easily fell into a deep and refreshing sleep. Still, she suddenly realized, he was avoiding the point of her pointed remark! "So tell me what's been keeping you so busy during the day?"

Blast! He couldn't get one by her this time. Knowing how she felt about his sleuthing, the Captain thought it best to shade the truth a bit. "I have been with some of my Fraternity. There are always newcomers who need assistance."

She didn't look too convinced that this was the entire explanation. "Were you voted onto to the 'Welcoming Committee' all of a sudden? Please, Daniel. I've known you too long. What's really going on? Does this have something to do with you wanting to find the hit-and-run driver?"

It was no use. She had him well and truly caught. "Aye. And we've gotten some solid information on the man. We will be looking for him on Friday."

"And once you find him, what do you think you will do?"

Daniel's mouth had lost its smile; now it was clenched in an angry grimace. "I am not sure. A thrashing within an inch of his life would be satisfying in the extreme, but only if it would convince him to get away from his demon rum."

Carolyn was aghast. "No you don't! I will not have anyone hurt on my account! 'An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth' does not apply here. And, I want to make this perfectly clear, Daniel; I could never tolerate your presence near me again if you were to do such a thing. It would be monstrous, and I could never trust you after that." That was a blow that clearly hurt him, so she softened her approach. "And I know," her voice mellowing, "that you are not a monster. I love you, Daniel. But, please don't cause any more pain."

"Alright. Although I fear it might be less effective, I promise, my dearest, I will do everything _but_ bodily injury to remove this piece of flotsam from the roadways."

Daniel "arrived" at Gull Cottage the next afternoon at two and he helped Candace set the big table in the dining room, while Jonathan and Brad churned the old-fashioned ice cream maker on the back porch. They had decided that homemade vanilla ice cream would be the perfect accompaniment to Martha's apple and pumpkin pies. Their voices could be heard in the dining room as Candace and the Captain smoothed out the large tablecloth and pulled the good china, glass and silverware from the china cabinet.

The Captain's smile was radiant that afternoon and it made the young teen feel warm all over seeing him so happy. "I guess we all have a lot to be thankful for today, with Mom getting better and better and you able to live openly now."

"Yes indeed, my lassie. All _my_ dreams are coming true at last. I hope that yours will not take so long to be fulfilled."

Candace rounded the side of the table to put her arms around Daniel and give him a good hug. "Dad," she whispered, "Mom being alive is my first dream come true. You and her getting married will be my second. After that, we'll see." He hugged her back, too overcome for words.

Ed Peavy arrived a short while later and the men-folk made themselves scarce after they were hustled out of the kitchen. Daniel would have liked to let Ed know what he and his friends had discovered, but Brad's presence meant that they could not discuss it. As far as the Williams' were concerned, Carolyn's accident was in the past and there was no need to upset them further with it. Jonathan, on the other hand, suspected that there was something going on. He knew that the Captain and Ed had been in contact more that usual recently and he sensed that there was something that they wanted to talk about privately. He decided to keep an eye on them for the opportunity to listen in.

In short order the Thanksgiving feast was served, and Carolyn was honored with the first of everything. They raised their glasses in a toast to all that they had to be thankful for and then enjoyed all the bountiful food that the table bore.

"Martha, you've out-done yourself!" Daniel complemented the housekeeper.

"Thankyou, Captain," she replied, giving a mock bow. "You know how much I enjoy cooking for all of you. It's just such a wonderful day, isn't it, and I'm going to cry!" She got up from the table and ran sniffling to the kitchen to grab a tissue. They all knew that under her sarcastic manner, Martha had the softest of hearts.

It seemed like merely the blink of an eye before the turkey carcass was nearly stripped clean and the turnips, sweet potatoes, succotash and green bean casserole were emptied. Somehow, they all still had room for pie a la mode, but after all that, the company pushed their chairs back from the table, groaning.

"It's time to turn on the football game," announced Brad. "Who wants to join me?"

"I will, Grandpa!" responded Candace, always eager to spend time with him. Emily wasn't far behind her.

"You know how much I love football, Brad. I'll be in just as soon as we've finished cleaning up," Emily said.

"I won't allow it," said Daniel with mock sternness. "You ladies have done a yeoman's job these last few days. Ed and I will take care of cleaning the galley and the mess cabin."

"I'll help too," Jonathan chimed in, seeing his chance.

"Well, I don't want to be left out," Brad said, turning in his tracks.

"No, no Grandpa. Someone needs to entertain the ladies," Jonathan said, trying to sound as much like the Captain as he could. The seaman clapped the boy on the shoulder, smiling.

"That's a good idea, lad!"

Once they had gotten all the things into the kitchen and the plates, platters and casseroles scraped out, Daniel started washing and Ed and Jonathan did the drying. The boy suspected that the men had been planning to discuss the investigation but were silent in his presence. The only thing for it was to take the bull by the horns.

"Listen, I uh, think that one of you has some information about the person who caused Mom's accident. I really want to know what's going on, please!"

"Jonathan…" Daniel began.

"I'm thirteen and I'm in high school. Please don't treat me like a little kid. She's my mother, after all."

"Son, it's not that at all," Ed began to explain. "It's just that it's an official investigation."

"Yeah, if its so official, why is the Captain doing all the investigating?"

"Jonathan, how did you know about that?" the Captain asked, somewhat alarmed at what the boy might know about the Spectral Fraternity.

"Just a good guess that you just confirmed for me. Now, please tell me what you know."

Daniel sighed and looked over at Peavy. "It looks like I've been caught out, Ed."

"Aye, that you have," the other man said with a sideward glance at Jonathan. "I knew that day the Muirs moved in and I started painting the parlor that this one," shrugging his shoulder at the boy, "would keep us all on our toes." The three of them laughed at the memory of how the ghostly captain had scared the painter out of the house.

"Alright, then. This is what I've found out…"


	9. Chapter 9

**Time and Tide**

**Chapter Nine:**

"Please, please let me go with you," Jonathan pleaded in a whisper the next morning. It was seven o'clock and the rest of the house was still sleeping off the turkey of the day before. "I'm sure I can be a help to you."

"Jonathan, I'm going down to New York, and I am _not_ driving, if you get my drift. And I can't transport you, that is completely impossible."

"Is it?" Jonathan was becoming angry now. "I've seen you materialize things and I've seen you move objects, even Scruffy and Claymore. I don't think you're telling me the truth about this."

Daniel pinched his nose. Teenagers! Why did they have to be so damn…hormonal!

"Lad, I have never lied to you and I never will. Yes, I can materialize small, inanimate objects that are nearby. Yes, I can invisibly pick up Scruffy and carry him a few yards and I can also throw Claymore a few feet. What I cannot do is transport anything miles, most particularly something alive."

The boy clenched his fists, not knowing what to do with his frustration.

"Belay that squall, boy," commanded the Captain. "What if I 'spoke' to you from time to time to let you know what was happening?"

"Could you?"

"Yes. Whenever you hear the clock strike the hour, be prepared to be in a place where you can listen to my voice in your head. Now I'm not saying that I can or will talk to you every hour. I just want you to be prepared. And you won't be able to speak to me. It will be a strictly one-way line."

"Why not, Dad?"

"Because you're not a spirit, that's why."

Daniel stood surrounded by his spectral friends. They were discussing how to handle the next part of the investigation. James had obtained the name and the address of the owner of the car. The question was first to find him in his home territory and then how to approach him. He thought of his promise to Carolyn and decided that it would be best if one or both of the women accompany him. He hoped that they would keep him from administering the corporal punishment that he still wished he could mete out. Boomer was big, but not mature enough for a situation like this. Oliver would do well at his side, and while James deserved a rest after coming through for him with the information, he felt that the ghost also deserved to see a resolution to things. It was time to take charge.

"Alright, my friends. We have a name: Otis Peal. His late grandfather was the mayor of Greenport on the north fork of Long Island (and no, he is not a member of our ghostly fraternity,) and his father is the owner of Peal's Boats and Watercraft in that town. Otis is the primary salesman for the company and as such, he travels up and down the coast speaking with clients."

"Why, dear Daniel, does he bring the car so far away for repairs?" asked Anne Boleyn.

"I suspect he wouldn't want his father to know how often he has accidents. This way he can always say that he is spending a few days talking with shops nearby as an excuse for being away. Did you know that there is a little island in the Bronx that could be a piece of New England? It is called 'City Island' and it had a fishing industry in the past. Now there are a few boatyards on it for weekend sailors. And many restaurants, too."

"Alright, Danny boy, but what if he's not near home today?" asked Oliver.

"I'd be surprised if the day after the Thanksgiving holiday he'd be too far from home. We can always ask at their shop."

Velma asked, "What else do we know about him? Does he have a family of his own? Friends?"

Daniel noticed Boomer sulking away from the group as he turned to answer Velma. "Boomer, come here lad! I have something for you to do for me." The young surfer looked up, surprised, but happy that the Captain had a task for him. "I want you to go to Schooner Bay and meet my son, Jonathan. He's anxious about this. Introduce yourself, tell him I sent you and keep him occupied. I know he's young, but he's a mature lad. He loves the water and would probably enjoy learning about surfing. Too bad it's too cold up there for it now but come summer there's enough surf to teach a beginner."

"Yes, Sir!" Boomer gave his best salute and "popped" out.

"Now, about further background on Otis, I have nothing more. It's time to travel and to investigate Greenport and the nearby villages."

Greenport, New York was about 2 ½ hours from New York City but was a world and a century in time away. Founded by settlers from Connecticut across Long Island Sound in the 1600's, it had an excellent deep-water port in one of the best protected bays Daniel had ever visited. It had gone by many names over the decades, but in 1831 it officially became "Greenport", a village in the town of Southold in Suffolk County. It's whaling industry was large and successful, operating between 1795 and 1859. When whaling became uneconomical to pursue, the seamen began to fish for menhaden, an industry that sustained the village for many years, especially since the Long Island Railroad had made Greenport its' eastern-most terminus on the north shore of the island allowing easy transportation to the Fulton Street Fish Market in Manhattan. Starting in 1830, the area also became a well-known ship building center, known for its barques and schooners. Daniel had been to the port many times during his travels, often stopping for repairs, new sails and rigging before heading out to sea again.

As he and his friends materialized behind a store on Main Street, he was amazed to see how much the village remained the same. The store names might have changed, and Claudio's was no longer a little tavern, but a large and elegant restaurant, still so many of the buildings were otherwise as they had been in his time. And as ever, Gardiner's Bay was deep blue, with Shelter Island sitting in its' midst. How easy it was to think that only a few years had passed since he had last been here, instead of a century!

Anne was sent to the address they had for Otis, and Velma went to his parent's house. Daniel and James went to the offices of Peal's Boats and Watercraft. Oliver started checking out the local taverns, even though it was still before noon.

No one answered Anne's insistent knocking at Otis's small house. Velma was greeted by the senior Otis's housekeeper who informed her that Mr. Otis was at his business and Mrs. Otis had taken the train to New York City for shopping.

The Captain and James approached the office belonging to Josiah Peal on Brown and 4th Street. Behind the small building containing the office there was a boatyard facing onto a small protected cove. They could see a clutch of power boats in various states of assembly and off to one side a generously sized sailboat was being restored. The street reverberated with the sound of hammers and saws and the scent of wood and varnish drifted on the breeze, mixing with the salt air.

"Daniel, I don't see any cars that would match the description of the Impala. I don't think Otis is here."

"Just as well, James. We may get some interesting information if we can speak to his father. I know you can't judge a book by its cover, but I would imagine a man with such an old-fashioned name as 'Josiah' wouldn't be happy with a drunkard for a son."

James looked up at Daniel with one eyebrow cocked in puzzlement. "You realize that someone with such an old-fashioned name just might not want to air his dirty linen in public, especially to a pair of fellows he's never seen before?"

"Yes, I admit to that possibility, and to many more outcomes that might occur. I think we'd best just go in and find out what we can."

With that, the two men entered the office. The room was lined with cheap paneling, contained two desks behind a counter, and a door led to another space that was obviously a workroom. Someone was banging away on a piece of metal back there, but when the front door screeched closed behind the Captain and the mechanic, a man who looked to be in his late sixties entered the office.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?" he asked with a friendly smile on his face.

Daniel stepped forward. "How do you do? I happened to speak with Otis Peal of your company some weeks ago when he was up in Maine. He got me pretty interested in one of your smaller craft for my family's use."

"Um hum?" was all the older man said.

"Indeed," the Captain replied. I was hoping to speak with Otis again about it. Is he around or has he taken a holiday?"

The elder Peal looked a little disquieted. "Well," he drawled, "he was to the house yesterday for Thanksgiving dinner. Haven't seen him today, though." The man extended his hand. "I'm Josiah Peal and Otis is my son."

"And I am Daniel Gregg, and this is my good friend and one of the best mechanics on land or water, James Campbell." James shrunk back a bit, not wanting to be pulled into any discussions of marine engines. He'd never even seen one.

"So you were interested in a small power boat or was it a sailboat?" asked Peal.

"A sailboat. But I would like to discuss it with Otis. He was the one who whetted my appetite and he should get the commission."

"Ah, yes. Well as I said, I don't know where he is this morning. He might be in later or he might not. I can have him call you, if you like?"

James stepped into the conversation. "We just got off the road. Haven't even looked for a motel yet."

"Perhaps he went for a late breakfast?" Daniel asked. "We could look for him."

"Well, if you want to look around town, you might find him. If you've spent any time with him, you know that he likes his coffee very strong, if you get my drift." Josiah shook his head sadly. "Don't know where he picked that up from. His mother and I are teetotalers," he said softly, almost to himself.

James and Captain Gregg walked to the end of 4th Street and down to the water's edge. The beaches on the bay side were soft yellow-white sand, unlike those that faced Long Island Sound, which were made of multitudes of water-rounded stones and pebbles. Oliver materialized by them, unseen by human eyes.

"My friend," Daniel said, turning to the old inn-keeper, "please tell me that this little town doesn't have an over-abundance of taverns, especially ones that would open their doors at noon on the day after Thanksgiving."

"No, Daniel. It doesn't. There's only one place opening up now and it they only serve beer to customers getting a hot lunch. However, there are a couple of bars a few towns away, in the county seat."

"Ah, yes. Riverhead," the Captain remembered. "Never did care for that town. All sorts of pretentious people there because of the county government mixed up with every type of hangers-on, sly fellows and tawdry women while the seasonal crop pickers, local fishermen and urchins made do in squalor only slightly better than that of the rat warrens of Brooklyn and Manhattan. So tell me, did you see Otis or his car?"

"I didn't go passed the taverns, I only asked where a fellow might quench his thirst. I have the names and locations of two places open right now and a third that will be open within the hour." Oliver pulled out an old, yellowed piece of paper with some words written in faded pencil on it. Daniel leaned over, his forehead wrinkling, "Oliver, tell me why you insist on making everything look like it was 120 years old? Don't you think it will attract attention, if anyone gets hold of that paper?"

The older man looked first at James and then at Captain Gregg, hung his head and shrugged his shoulders. "It just makes me feel…more in place…not floating all over damned time and whatever this is!"

In a moment, the trio were walking along a street in the town of Riverhead. There was a little traffic, but not much. They walked past a small supermarket with only a couple of patrons in it, a gas station, a laundromat and the post office. Another block brought a handful of small stores, a druggist and a fish-seller. On the next block, they encountered the first bar. Its window was adorned with all sorts of lighted signs advertising typical beers and other spirits. Over the door, the transom was open, allowing the smell of stale beer to roll out over the sidewalk. Several cars were parked along the sidewalk, but none of them were the re-painted Chevy. Daniel quickly strode into to the place. One man was sitting at the bar and another was eating a sandwich at a table near the back. The bartender looked up and smiled at the seaman.

"Good day to you, my friend! What would you like?"

"And a good day to you as well. I'm afraid I'm only here to obtain some information." Daniel stepped up to the bar and leaned forward to speak quietly to the other man. "I'm looking for Otis…"

"That lout!" interrupted the bartender. "I threw him out for the last time months ago. It wasn't so much that he was running a big tab; he always squared up with me eventually. No, his problem is that more and more he's becoming an unruly drunk and having blackouts. The last time he was here, he nearly trashed the place." The man pointed to a crack in the mirror behind the bar. "He put that there, and he nearly put the self-same crease in my cheek. I don't know what you want with him, unless you've come to arrest him or you're taking him someplace to get him dried out, but if you really want to find him, he'll be at Segal's on Twin Alley."

Moments later Daniel, Anne, James, Velma and Oliver materialized at the end of Twin Alley where a salt marsh was attempting to encroach on worn blacktop. They were nearly at the moment Daniel had been wishing for since Carolyn's accident. Mindful of his promise to her, however, the seaman knew that he and his present "crew" needed a plan. At first everyone had a different opinion of how to deal with Otis Peal, but eventually, Anne had a simple solution to their problem.

Although it was now early afternoon on bright but chilly day, there was no one in sight on the short street. Besides Segal's, there were a few rundown wooden shacks, three rusted and worn out small fishing boats lying at odd angles on turf of the salt marsh, a derelict truck, circa 1935 and parts of an unidentified vehicle behind one of the shacks and a child's tricycle at the edge of the road. As they walked closer to the bar, James pointed to the back of the building. They could see the rear corner of a car, painted a dull black. Walking around to see it, James muttered under his breath, "It's the one!"

He walked around the Impala until he got to the right side of the front fender. "Come here and look at this," he commanded. The rest of the ghostly group crowded round him as James pointed out the damaged bumper riding at an angle across the car's front. He got down under the car on his back for a moment and then slid out from underneath it just as fast. "It's exactly what I thought; there's a cable holding the bumper to the frame." He dusted off his clothes and pointed at the right front panels. "See how the paint is missing here, and the patching underneath. No doubt about it. This is Otis's car."

Daniel would have flung the auto deep into the marsh if he'd been able. Instead he simply said, "Let's make sure this machine never runs again."

James nodded, looking around. "Gotta work with what's available," he muttered again to himself. Then he noticed a banged-up bucket a few yards back toward the salt marsh. He went over and inspected it. Apparently, it met with his approval, because with a nod, he took a few steps over to a sandy patch and scooped some sand and pebbles into the bucket. With a twist of a pointed finger, he sent the pail over to the car, opened the gas filler and poured the debris down into the tank. Then he motioned the buck back to himself and disappeared for a moment before returning with it full to the brim of saltwater which also was drained into the gas tank. "There. Goodbye, Impala. You deserved better than that alcoholic."

Quietly the three men and two women walked back to the front of the building and entered Segal's. Despite the bright sun outside, it was very dim in the interior. What small windows there were in the place were coated in grime and other unidentifiable coatings. There were a few people in the bar, all sitting alone and staring into their drinks or out into space. The bartender blinked in the light of the open door as the group entered. He was a skinny, jumpy young man with bad skin and worse breath. He noticed Velma and Anne and didn't attempt to hide his examination of their bodies. Not taking his eyes off of them he spoke in a raspy voice. "We don't get too many strangers in here. You lost?"

Daniel stepped forward, putting himself between the bartender and the women. Calmly he said, "No. We're looking for Otis. We were told we'd find him here."

From the depths of the room a man stood up shakily. "I'm Otis." His speech was slurred, and he held fast to a chair to keep from toppling over. "Whaddiya want wi'me?"

Velma stepped around Daniel, but made sure he was within an arm's distance, just in case. "Otis," she said gently, "we need to talk to you outside."

"Bad news?" he asked.

"No, no bad news for once, Otis," she said and gave him a nice smile. "Just come outside and look at what my friends and I have to show you."

Anne came to Velma's side. "Yes, Otis. I'm sure you'll find it very interesting. Much more interesting than anything in here." She held one dainty hand out to him in a pleading manner. The drunk couldn't resist the invitations of the two women and staggered toward them. Just as he was about to fall into them, Daniel grabbed his right arm and Oliver his left and they walked him to the door. Otis turned his head back to the bartender as he reached the door. "Hey! Don't throw away my whiskey! I'll be back in a moment to finish it."

Outside, blinking in the brightness, Otis noticed that they were walking toward the salt marsh and began to struggle. "Le go a me! Whaddya doin'? I don' know any a you from Adam! Whas' goin' on here? Lemme go or I'll start yelling fer the cops!"

"You have nothing to worry about, Otis Peal," said Daniel. "We'll leave you right here after we talk with you, and then you can go back into that den and rot to hell, if that's what pleases you. Or you can straighten yourself out and stop being a disappointment to your family and a menace on the roads. It's up to you."

"Oh, yeah?" Otis wobbled a bit but leaned toward Daniel in what he thought must be a menacing manner. "I heard this lecture b'fore! And it ain't made one bit of diff'rence. I'm a drunk, a sot, tanked-up, plastered and _more_ than three sheets to the wind! 'N I like it. Never was gonna amount to anything anyway."

Anne stepped forward. "Otis, look at me." The drunk needed a few seconds to locate the petite red-head, then squinted at her and smiled. "Pretty lady," he murmured. Anne put a gentle hand on his shoulder and leaned close until one of Otis's alcoholic sighs forced her back a bit. "Otis, you're a dangerous man. You nearly killed a woman a few weeks ago. We're here to help you reform." With that, she withdrew her hand. The five ghosts turned and walked toward the salt marsh, then turned to face Otis again.

"Goodbye, Otis," Anne called out, and then the five of them dematerialized.

Suddenly Otis Peal was as sober as the day he was born. He recalled the bible story about how the angels came to visit Abraham at his tent and was sure that he had just experienced the same thing. He never drank again and lived a long and fruitful life.

Daniel arrived at Gull Cottage just in time for Carolyn's birthday party. Besides the family, Martha and Ed, Claymore, Mr. & Mrs. Coburn, Deke, Jonah and their wives, Norrie was on hand with a catered buffet.

"Norrie, this is _lovely_!" cooed Emily Williams.

"My pleasure, Mrs. Williams. Mrs. Muir is such a nice person. She's done so much for this town and all of us."

Everyone wandered in and out of the parlor balancing plates of food, chatting and laughing, kissing the birthday girl and setting their presents on the top of the piano. After everyone had finished their dinner, Jonathan and his grandfather Brad brought out bottles of champagne and plastic champagne glasses.

"It's time for a birthday toast," Brad said.

"Can Candy and I have a sip too?" asked Jonathan as his sister reminded him once again that she wanted to be called "Candace". Brad looked at Carolyn, who thought for a moment and then nodded. "Yes, just a sip."

The glasses were filled, and the toast made, and Candace jumped up and announced that the birthday presents should be opened. Carolyn flushed and tried to demure, but everyone insisted. She opened gift after lovely gift, balling up the wrapping paper and throwing it for Scruffy to play with. When all the gifts had been opened, Daniel stepped up and took a box out of his pocket.

"I have one more gift to offer you, m'dear," he began as he sat down next to her on the sofa. "But you got me that beautiful silk scarf and the flowers," Carolyn protested. "Aye, that's true," Daniel replied. "But this one is special." He opened the box and withdrew an antique ring set with a fiery opal. "This was my mother's. I'd like you to wear it as an engagement ring. Will you marry me, Carolyn?"

The room was silent.

Carolyn looked up at the Captain, tears filling her eyes. "Yes. Yes, Daniel Gregg. I _will_ marry you!"


End file.
